


Delivery

by Rivana



Category: Highlander: The Series, The Bible
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-04
Updated: 2012-05-04
Packaged: 2017-11-04 20:17:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/397806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rivana/pseuds/Rivana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Methos goes to a musical and muses on betrayal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Delivery

  
_If we, as humans, are inherently evil, and if God created us thus,  
then wouldn't that mean that God made us inherently evil?  
And if he did, what's the point of asking him to deliver us from the same?  
Isn't that a bit like asking for a pink candy cane that isn't pink?_

~*~  


Every time he comes here, he’s surprised nobody notices. He knows it’s silly to think a musical can make any difference at all. It’s self-destructive to relive the past in this way, but still he watches. The sad gazes from Judas, and the words of warning, tear at his soul. He sees the white clothing of the Messiah and knows that it was never quite that pristine color.

Methos watches the guns and the beautified riot and remembers: the smell of smoke from torches, the dust sticking into wounds of rebels and guards alike. Mary-Magdalene was never a whore, but in the end that was not important -it was never the role but the part that mattered.

Three denials ring soundly through the air. The regret has never lessened for what he made them all do, and as the warnings grow direr he is riveted to the character of Judas up on stage. They really found the right one this time. Maybe the song isn’t really up to par with some of the others, but the eyes, the gestures-- He’s got Judas down pat and he’ll never know it.

Blood money, he tastes the words in his mouth and can feel the sickly sweet liquid where he bites his lip in pain. The agonized begging up on stage has him rigid in his chair, trying not to squirm, forcing himself never to look away. The kiss was their last, their damnation.

MacLeod thought being one of the Horsemen was the worst thing he’d ever done. He had no idea. That kiss -that was his worst betrayal to light and love. That, right there, was the reason why nothing he could do would ever be enough for redemption.

He hardly notices as the guards filter out on stage, but Methos remembers the scene well. The theater prison has no door; it’s all made up of imaginary lines. Back then, the cell walls were made of stone and it was the windows that were imagined.

They never show the madness that came in that cell, but then they don't know what really happened, do they? It’s just that this particular writer seems to have been strangely inspired; touch of the gift perhaps. Better not ever meet this man.

The play continues, staged to perfection. The lashes of a whip have nothing against the torments in Methos’ soul as he awaits the suicide. There is no water, no wine, and no prayers that can wash his hands of this. As the body swings on stage he closes his eyes for the first time and breathes deeply. He lets himself shed the tears he’s been holding in for most of the show. If only he'd said something, confided his plans....

He lets the warm pearls of regret keep flowing as he watches the crucifixion and those final moments, that brightest bit of acting he’s ever accomplished -praying for a god that does not exist. When the end comes, he is as grateful now as he was then. The delivering moment is afterwards though; when Judas hits the stage in red leather, wondering what the great, mighty Jesus ever sacrificed. _Far too much,_ Methos thinks, as he hangs on every word, _I sacrificed you._


End file.
